Colorzzle - Thoughts

Simplicity can be a fickle concept. Akin to an amateur tightrope walker, it wobbles awkwardly between elegant and boring, ready to plunge off either side at a moment's notice. The Atari 2600 and its ilk know this pain all too well, their vast libraries reduced to little more than droll oddities nowadays. But puzzle games tend to fare better at skirting this fate; sudoku, crossword puzzles, Wordle, Minesweeper, Tetris, and innumerable others are played daily by folks both young and old. There's something about a repeatable brain teaser that never grows stale, like listening to your favorite song from a decade ago or sipping from a cold drink after a mile run. However, boredom awaits on the other side of the tightrope, a dreadful reminder that inoculation does not mean immunization. 

Case-in-point: Colorzzle, a visually-pleasing, simple puzzler that's about as deep as a single coat of paint.

The premise behind Colorzzle is deliciously succinct: match open blocks with their required color. Got a red open block? Slot a red square next to it. A green open block? Try a green square—or you can sandwich it between one blue and one yellow square instead! The ability to "blend" adjacent colors to create secondary (and tertiary) hues is at the core of Colorzzle's challenge, as well as its main draw. Being given a scattered rainbow of cubes and having to neatly organize them can be a fun endeavor... but the appeal doesn't last long.

The big problem is that Colorzzle doesn't really require much thought from the player. Once you've memorized the various color combinations, puzzles boil down to mechanical busywork. The longest puzzles tend to be those that require the most reorganization, the solution only mildly obscured from the player. Colorzzle tries to spice things up with new mechanics like color-changing blocks and optic beams, but these aren't new tools in your repertoire as much as they're static blocks that take a couple of clicks to get "right". In Colorzzle's hour-long run time, I only found the postgame puzzles to be worthy of my brainpower—so about a tenth of the game. The rest of my playthrough was simply fine: too pleasant to ever become annoying, but too dull to deserve a place in my memory.

All things considered, there are worse things for a puzzle game to be than boring. A hellish experience like Understand instantly flits to mind, with its dense web of obscure rules and moon-logic that blows past "stupefying" and lands on "just stupid." It's probably better for a game to be "boring" rather than "dumb", but there aren't really any takeaways to be had with the former—just a gentle disappointment, like crawling into bed only to realize you forgot your phone charger downstairs. It's an innocuous sin that—at most—elicits a tsk... which was my exact reaction upon finishing Colorzzle. For a game so visually vibrant, Colorzzle's gameplay is about as gray as you can get.

Scalak - Thoughts

It's hard to imagine anyone playing through Scalak and feeling as though they've wasted their time. In the subgenre of brief, minimalist, non-numerical puzzle games, you can run into a lot of unfulfilling titles that either fail to reach their potential (Naboki) or are annoyingly obtuse (Understand)—but Scalak is neither of those things. What you'll get is an interesting, colorful, varied puzzle game, one that appears to be about matching similar shapes but is really about object manipulation. If you like the idea of having to flip, twist, and turn blocks in order to get them to satisfyingly "click" together, then Scalak might just be for you.

What helps make Scalak stand out compared to other manipulation games like The Room and PUSH is that there's very little experimentation required. You won't find any hidden compartments or secret switches; brute forcing your way to a solution via trial & error is not an option here. The only unknown you'll have to contend with is what the opposite side of an object might look like—a problem that's easily solved with Scalak's intuitive rotation controls. The main challenge of the game comes from deducing what the solution should look, and then arranging the pieces before you to match that image. It sounds simple in theory but gets pretty perplexing as the number of pieces increase.

Of course, this comes with the stipulation that you can handle rotating 3D images in your head. I was reminded of Organic Chemistry while playing it, specifically picturing how organic compounds would interact with outside elements. While the technique came was natural for me, I know other folks struggled with it—and perhaps Scalak would similarly drive them up the wall. But it's not nearly as fraught with complexity as its molecular kith, at most giving you three rectangular prisms to deal with at a time. That's not to say that there isn't a surprising amount of complexity in its later puzzles (there is), but Scalak never gets to the point that you'll want to pull your hair out. It knows to keep things calm, the ambiance warm, and new mechanics flowing like good wine at a wedding reception.

I'm not as head over heels for Scalak as I was with Linelight, but I find it as equally deserving of a recommendation. There are a lot of cool bits and head-scratching puzzles, all promising a rush of relief if you can get the pieces to fall perfectly into place with one another. But there's no pressure; Scalak is calm, clean, and simple without ever feeling effortless, boring, or like it's stalling for time. Think of it like a good meal at an affordable restaurant: you'll be done with it in two hours and it'll be worth every penny you spend.

Naboki - Thoughts

Would PUSH have been a better game without the fixed perspective? Naboki serves as the answer to this question, continuing its predecessor's penchant for tedious clicking—but this time in the thiiiird dimensiooon! There's actually a little bit of every one of Targoni's puzzle games here, letting you shift, rotate, and align blocks, all while taking into account the physical space these puzzle cubes occupy. It's a clever game that is unquestionably better than PUSH, however it bears an unfortunate flaw: Naboki is too short.

Now, I understand that complaining about the brevity of a Marciej Targoni game is an oxymoron, like whining about a Team Ninja title being difficult; the alleged foible is the appeal of the developer. But whereas PUSH and Up Left Out provide complete experiences, Naboki feels as if it was cut short, lacking 10 puzzles or so. Perhaps it's just my imagination—klocki lasts just as long (50 minutes) yet I didn't ding it for its length—but I still would've liked to see maybe a little more from Naboki. One or two more mechanics would've really hit the spot, or a couple more levels that utilize every mechanic you've learned thus far.

Although in hindsight, perhaps it had enough mechanics by the end; puzzles in Naboki become so convoluted that you can't help but bumble your way through. I wouldn't go as far as calling it "trial and error" but Naboki borrows from PUSH's tediousness, delaying your victory with a checklist of switches that need flicking. Thankfully, Naboki counters its predecessor's failing by offering the player freedom—in the form of the third dimension. Whereas PUSH was designed around clicking on stuff in a preset order, Naboki centers itself around exploration. You're expected to spin its puzzle cubes as inquisitively as a tot at daycare, hunting for the right spot to begin chipping away. While it can feel a bit plodding at times (especially when there's half a dozen switches on screen), Naboki manages to remain more playful than dull, largely because progress is never ripped away. Every step you take towards the solution is permanent; every block removed gradually reveals your victory.

Naboki can be a bit cumbersome at times—particularly if you struggle with object permanence—but it's still a fun game to spend some of your downtime on. I found Targoni's description of it as a "disassemble puzzle" to be quite apt, evoking the same strange catharsis found in unraveling a Lego structure brick by brick. Naboki is patient, humble, and sadly brief; give it a go if you like seeing your puzzles crumble.

PUSH - Thoughts

Out of all of Maciej Targoni's simple puzzlers, I found PUSH to be the least appealing. It's not a terrible game per se, but it demands a lot of recalling and spatial manipulation, neither of which feel engaging to exercise. PUSH is one part memory matching game, another part code breaker, and a third part tedious fiddler—and it's the "tedious" part you'll experience the most. It's admittedly callous to criticize the game so harshly—especially considering its infinitesimal cost—but if you're looking for a nice, chill puzzler to soothe the brain-aches, Targoni himself has plenty better to offer.

PUSH starts off as simple as can be, requiring the player to click on matching buttons to solve each puzzle. Soon a pink knob is thrown into the mix which can rotate the object you're looking at, granting access to buttons hidden from your fixed view. The game carries on like this for a while, occasionally throwing a new gimmick your way like alternating black & white buttons or operating a jelly cube to push buttons you cannot. For the most part it's mildly entertaining, but a nagging suspicion will creep up the back of your neck, whispering that all you're really doing is mindless busywork.

Hook similarly suffered from this problem, the issue here is exacerbated in two ways: not only does a single incorrect guess reset a good chunk of the puzzle (if not the entire thing), but information is often concealed from the player, requiring constant rotations of the puzzle polyhedron. This isn't a big deal early on—so long as you can recall a handful of shapes—but the deeper you go the more the game tries to confound your memory. Eventually you'll be flicking switches faster than a mad scientist, checking each side in the hopes that you haven't forgotten a concealed button somewhere that could unravel the entire sequence. Understand that PUSH's hardest puzzles aren't its most complicated but rather its most obfuscated, where the solution veils itself in a surfeit of viewpoints.

Halfway through, PUSH doubles down on this approach, introducing buttons that must be pressed in a precise order. Thankfully the game denotes which button to start with, but deciphering the right path can still be an irksome experience. PUSH arbitrarily discounts buttons hidden from view, sometimes penalizing the player for forgetting a hidden button, yet other times discounting the hidden button entirely as part of its solution. You'll eventually grow accustomed to the game's strange reasoning, but it won't come with that special epiphany that defines the greatest puzzle games. Your comprehension will be a lukewarm "I guess" as you start over, trying to remember which button among the dozen hidden did you in.

Again, I don't think PUSH is a bad game; if you're a fan of Targoni & Hamster on Coke's work, you won't lose anything by ambling through PUSH. It's short, cheap, and at times kind of pretty in a minimalist way. But for me, it's just a little too unengaging to require the amount of memorization it asks of the player. Hook is for folks that like untying knots, Up Left Out has a huge variety of sliding tile puzzles, and PUSH... well, all it brings to the table is the feeling that you forgot your car keys over and over again.

Up Left Out - Thoughts

I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with sliding tile puzzles that—admittedly—leans on the latter more than the former. When the tiles are faceless or asymmetrical, I usually enjoy monkeying with the pieces until I accidently come by the solution. But for traditional puzzles, I'm forced to relive my childhood frustration, transported back to the impenetrable bonus minigame from Bart vs. the World. I'm obviously better at them as an adult than a child, but I nevertheless view them as the more restrictive and unimaginative cousin of Sokoban-style puzzles. Thus, I began Up Left Out cautiously, uncertain if I'd be forced once again to mash together the irreparable bust of Homer Simpson.

But thank goodness I stuck with it—Up Left Out is a fantastic little puzzler that will give your brain a delightful workout.

Like with klocki, Up Left Out's greatest strength is the way it frequently plays with its rules. It starts off with a simple goal: move every block once. Eventually new objectives and gimmicks will weasel their way onto your board, like blocks of varying sizes, blocks you can rotate, blocks that need to be aligned, and blocks that grant access to similarly-shaped blocks. If that sentence sounds silly or confusing, have no fear; Up Left Out carefully complicates its mechanics one step at a time, ensuring the player never feels lost.

As you continue to rotate, align, and mimic the blocks on the table, you'll notice that there's a kind of unexpected quirk to the way they move. The board itself utilizes classic ice physics, meaning once a block moves it won't stop until colliding with the wall or another object. At first I feared this would make puzzles more step-intensive than they needed to be, but I quite enjoyed the mechanic by the end. It keeps the constant reorganization of the tile puzzler interesting, sometimes turning what would otherwise be a simple move into a challenge.

Up Left Out bears a decent mix of easy-to-moderate puzzles, taking care not to lean on one mechanic too heavily. The fifth to last puzzle (pictured below) is probably the most complicated, requiring deft maneuvering inside of its claustrophobic confines (which is why it's my favorite). Besides that, you won't find any real brain scratchers among the lot. Up Left Out prefers to stimulate rather than demoralize the player, so you'll always be close to a solution as long as you can muster up the brainpower. If it's lacking in any area, it's that it might be a bit too short—but with a $1 price tag, it's kind of silly to ask for more.

I found Up Left Out to be a lot of fun, offering a pleasant diversion that you can blast through in one or two afternoons. It's more of a substantial puzzle game than Maciej Targoni's other entries, but still adheres to his philosophy of keeping the experience tranquil and relaxing. Up Left Out tests but never confronts, knowing how to keep the player calm without putting them to sleep. It's one of the few tile puzzlers that I can jibe with; if you spot Up Left Out on sale, don't hesitate to pick it up.

Zenge - Thoughts

Occasionally during a Steam sale I'll grab a bunch of short, cheap puzzlers to play in between the longer games in my backlog. After finishing the fantastic Golf Peaks, I quickly jumped into Zenge in need of something simpler to tickle my brain. But Zenge is... I'm not sure what to say about it. Similar to its cousin Hook, its a game about following lines more than anything else, and unless the pretty art strikes your fancy, Zenge will fail to leave much of an impression.

Like a lot of the puzzlers I have, Zenge is so cheap that it makes no sense to discourage anyone from trying it. I mean, for four US quarters the game lasts about two hours and doesn't bombard you with any stupid design decisions. But on the flip side there's not really anything fascinating about it. The biggest draw Zenge has going for it is that after completing a puzzle, a picture will materialize that links the previous and future puzzles together. But the story the game tells is more of an abstract journey out of the pages of a child's book than it is an adventurous yarn that draws you in. That's not a knock against Zenge or children's books; it'll probably just be something you either fancy or don't. And personally, despite how much I appreciate awarding the player with art post-puzzle, that wasn't the main reason I picked the game up—the puzzles were.

And this is where I struggle to think up a lot of things to say about Zenge. It starts off simple enough to ease you into its various mechanics, but by the end you don't feel tested on your mastery or blown away at how all the systems come together. Like Hook, the bigger the puzzles get the more mindless busywork you have to do to make sure the various jigsaw pieces can move around each other and slot into place. There's nothing that'll stump you or flip your understand on how to play the game upside-down. You'll simply move pieces and then rotate or shrink them if they won't fit. And that's basically its entire playbook.

The one thing Zenge has over Golf Peaks is that its music is very soothing and beautiful. But presentation alone usually isn't enough to win me over, and Zenge is not an exception to this rule. The game's enjoyable enough that I actively sought to finish it and didn't regret my time spent, but it's likely you won't hear me talk about Zenge outside of this one, lone blog post.

klocki - Thoughts

The connection to Hook is immediately apparent as soon as klocki boots up: it's a no frills, no story, no nonsense puzzle game that's all about exercising your wits for around an hour. Unlike Hook however, you likely won't walk away from it thinking "was that really it?" I enjoyed Hook but couldn't really say it hooked me; klocki on the other hand, kept me enthused all the way to the end.

The biggest difference between the two games (besides the bright colors) is that klocki changes up how you interact with it. It's primarily a game about moving squares around so that they form either complete circuits or rounded-off line segments, but the mechanics will be shaken up every five levels or so. At first you'll patching together simple circuits, then you'll be creating circuits on three dimensional objects, then the way in which you can spatially manipulate the tiles will change, then you'll be making multiple circuits, etc. It starts off extremely simple but gets visually complicated, to the point that outsiders will likely be unable to parse any information at the final puzzles.

Like I mentioned, what keeps klocki ticking is that any time you get bored or frustrated with a mechanic, the game will quickly shift over to something else. The only time I'd argue that it gets particularly vexing is when sliding blocks are introduced, since the rigidness of that mechanic doesn't flow with the laid-back pace of the rest of the game. Thankfully the three 9x9 stint of sliding puzzles is the worst of it; for the most part, klocki is a relaxing game to mellow yourself out with at the end of a long day. Like Hook it's not a brain burner in any way shape or form, but it'll still provide a gentle release seeing your lines light up.

Hook - Thoughts

Hook is a brief yet pleasant title that's all about following lines. If that sounds really simple to you, it's because... well, it is. Despite being labeled as a puzzler, Hook feels more like the skeleton of a puzzle game, requiring only a rudimentary grasp on its mechanics to reach the end. Your first task in the puzzle genre—which step do I take first?—is the only question that the game asks of you, every mechanic introduced serving to obfuscate the answer. It's a fun diversion for the maze-minded, but don't expect your brain heat up while playing it.

If there was one thing that could greatly increase it's longevity, it would be to implement a "least moves" objective for each problem. Introducing something as simple as "complete the puzzle in X number of black button clicks" would at least force the player to look at all options on the table, instead of chipping away at the tangled latticework piecemeal. It might not seem like much, but since the game can be safely completed in under an hour I kinda wish there was just a tiny bit more to do.

Screenshots belie its complexity; Hook is very approachable and aesthetically pleasing title that I gladly devoted two brief afternoons to. While I still wish there was more lurking beneath its surface, every game I play can't be Fire 'n Ice—what's here is nice, especially when you take the price tag into account.